Hamptons Heat
by Liv Wilder
Summary: Epilogue for 'And All The Mornings Ever After'. "He's waited years for this, for the chance to whisk the woman he truly believes is the love of his life away to his private retreat in the Hamptons..." Rating change to M.
1. Chapter 1 Two Mile Hollow Lane

_Disclaimer: They're still not mine. I'm only borrowing them for fun times._

* * *

___A/N: This is the epilogue for 'And All The Mornings Ever After', but it does stand alone if you don't fancy reading eighty chapters of Casketty goodness. What, are you mad?_

**_Hamptons Heat_**

**_Chapter 1 - Two Mile Hollow Lane_**

He's waited years for this, for the chance to whisk the woman he truly believes is the love of his life away to his private retreat in the Hamptons; a property he is so proud of, so eager to share with her, that his heart is beating out of his chest and he's up and out of bed by six-thirty on the morning they're supposed to leave town.

He's about as excited as he gets over every holiday combined – Halloween, his birthday, Thanksgiving, and Christmas - oh, yes, Christmas. He'll have Beckett to unwrap under his tree this year. The thought puts a massive grin on his face. _Happy Holidays!_

But first they're doing this – packing for a week away together at the beach; a 'get to know you better' break he dubbed it, as if he has to sell it to her at all, and as if there was much more '_getting to know you'_ left to do. There's the first fours years together, of course. They've already christened every room in both of their apartments, and he's pretty sure they could publish a 'New and Updated' version of the Kama Sutra, given Kate's creativity and flexibility in the bedroom and…other places.

* * *

The lady in question comes out of the bathroom toweling off her hair, looking relaxed and happy, a fluffy white bath towel wrapped around her slender body.

"Don't forget my phone charger," she reminds him, sliding a hand across his back as she passes by on her way to the closet.

"Already packed mine," he says, throwing her a triumphant look. "My charger's gonna…uh…_dock_ with your phone, Kate. So deal. It's inevitable. No keeping them apart now," he says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"You're sick," Kate throws at him, shaking her head, but she's still smiling. Couldn't stop if she tried.

Castle has a large, silver suitcase open on the bed, some ridiculously expensive, ultra-light affair made from a revolutionary carbon fiber _blah blah_ material. Kate stopped listening when he started extolling the virtues of the indestructible hard shell design inspired by the extreme sports scene. They're taking his _Mercedes_, driving _themselves_ out to the house for God's sake. How _extreme _can it get?

But she wisely keeps these thoughts to herself so as not to spoil his fun. And this is _them _after all. They have been known to find a spot or two of trouble no matter where they go. And if not, trouble usually finds them.

* * *

Kate dresses in a pair of loose-fitting, white linen pants that sit low on her hips, gold thong sandals, and a pale grey Henley that she loves for its softness.

Castle insists on undoing a couple of extra buttons for her, telling her the cotton shirt looks more stylish that way.

"Yeah, if you're nursing a newborn," says Kate dryly, fastening one button back up, since they seem to be all about the compromise these days.

He has his underwear, a few new shirts and t-shirts he bought expressly for this trip (such a girl), and a pair of white linen pants of his own that Kate is dying to see him wear. She's determined to persuade him to go commando while they're out of town, and these loose, soft pants seem perfect for the job. She can already picture his well-defined ass encased in rumpled white linen, and her body thrums, palms itching at the mere thought of it.

The rest of the space in the roomy suitcase is allocated to Kate's clothes, since Castle already has quite a collection in his closet at the Hamptons house.

"Now, _this_, I like," says Castle, plucking a strappy sundress from her hands as she attempts to fold the silky, slippery fabric.

"Okay. You need to step away from the suitcase, Richard Castle, if we're going to get on the road in the next half hour. Go…go tidy something," she says in mock frustration, shooing him out of the bedroom.

"Don't forget your handcuffs," he throws over his shoulder as he leaves the room, and Kate lets out of peel of laughter.

Silly, optimistic man.

* * *

After they load everything into the car, he hands her the keys. Kate looks down at the black fob lying in the palm of her hand, and then she shakes her head and hands it back to him.

"When we're…_just us_, I think you should be in the driving seat," she says, stretching up on her tiptoes to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. "You've done a pretty great job of piloting us so far, Castle. Wouldn't want to jinx things," she smiles, trailing her nails across his chest on her way round to the passenger side of the car.

She doesn't mean driving the damn car, and they both know it, and Castle's heart leaps at the confidence and trust she's displaying in him to get them through.

He hurries after her looking ridiculously pleased, dodges around to open the door for her, and then bows comically as she smirks and slides into the buttery leather of the passenger seat, leaning back with a peaceful sigh and a long, feline stretch.

* * *

They're on the L.I.E. before she shucks off her sandals and props both feet up on the dash; her pale pink pearlescent nail polish glinting in the late morning sunlight.

"You look good in my car, Beckett," Castle observes, sliding one hand up her thigh and then smoothing it down again to squeeze the ticklish spot just above her knee.

Kate squirms and half-heartedly bats his hand away, ridiculously happy to be doing this with him, _finally_. She conceals her goofy grin by staring out of her window at the passing scenery, everything just a blur of color as her heart flutters with excitement and her mind refuses to settle on any one thing.

By the time they pass the village pond, and then pull off Main Street, East Hampton, onto Pondview Lane, the road turns into a sandy track and the traffic disappears as they head towards the large houses set in substantial private grounds all along the shore.

Castle's property is a little way further on from the famous Maidstone Golf Club at the end of Two Mile Hollow Lane, and Kate looks around her in fascination at every home they pass; each one larger, more extravagant, and more imaginative in its design than the last.

"Most of these are second homes," Castle tells her. "So I don't really know my neighbors that well. I tended to come out here when it was quiet to get peace and privacy to write… Well, except for the summers you already know about," he adds a little sadly, brushing his hand affectionately down over her ponytail from root to tip.

"All in the past, Castle," she tells him, laying her hand back on his thigh and leaving it there as he navigates the uneven private road, but feeling the regret just as keenly.

"Yeah," he says, a little gruffly, thinking back to her confession that she was ready to come out here with him two years ago, and what a mess he made of things.

"So, I was thinking," he says, trying to look towards the future instead of being swallowed up by their regretful past, "maybe we could come out here during the season if you wanted; do the party scene, meet the natives, host one of our own even."

He glances across at her to see how that suggestion is going down. Because he wants to show her off, _really_ wants to show her off, and if she's ready to play hostess with him then…

"Do I get to choose the theme?" she asks quietly, her fingers now playing with the fine hair on his arm. "If we host a party, I mean."

"Theme? Sure. That's a great idea," he says, fingers starting to tingle with excitement at the possibilities.

"No zombies, Rick," says Kate, shaking her head at him as she does her unnerving mind-meld thing. "Something…_tasteful_," she tells him, drawing her knees up to her chest so that her bare feet are on her seat too.

When Castle glances at her again, he thinks that she looks like a beautiful, elegant, self-possessed teenager; years younger than her actual age, and even younger again than the losses and sorrow she's suffered in life could have made her. The thought arouses and disturbs him in equal measure.

"Star Wars then," he says, shaking the thought off. "You would make a beautiful Princess Leia," he grins enthusiastically, fingers flexing around the cream, leather steering wheel, hands still at ten and two like she ordered.

"And I suppose that makes you my Han Solo?" she asks, looking over at him to see the stunning smile she knows will be spread across his face.

He just grins back at her, humming non-committedly, the two of them looking so darn happy it should be a felony in all fifty states.

Sand coats the road surface, and tall, whispering dune grasses line the edge of the lane, tickling the Merc's pristine silver paintwork as they pass by. Kate feels like she's entering another world with him, and really and truly she just couldn't feel any more relaxed if she tried. They have a whole week of this ahead – quiet time together, no phones to interrupt them with early morning or late night body drops, no nosey boys, no bossy Lanie, and no Alexis to hide their intimate moments from – just Rick and Kate on vacation, Castle style.

* * *

The house is sensational.

When they finally pull into his driveway, behind a large set of dove-grey wooden gates, and he hops out of the car, giddy as a teenager, practically running around the hood to open Kate's door to help her out, she has butterflies in her stomach.

"Oh wow! Castle," she says, shielding her eyes from the sun to look up at the large, cedar shingle and white wood house. "Are you rich or something," she smirks, walking around a little to stretch her legs.

"Well, not James Patterson rich," he tells her, trying to be modest, though her delight sparks so much pride in him he has to turn away to hide it. "But I do okay. Come on, I'll give you the tour," he says, holding out his hand for her to come inside.

They make it to the large, airy kitchen with views out over the back deck, before she catches up with him close enough to lay her hands on his back and then slide them around under his arms, molding her body around him, her lips pressing softly against his neck.

"What's…" he laughs in surprise, drawing her arms even tighter around his torso even as he twists to look back at her over his shoulder.

"Just," she shakes her head, resting her cheek in the warm spot between his shoulder blades, "making up for lost time," she admits, breathing out slowly, fingers flexing against his abs.

"You feel it too?" he asks, turning around in her arms until they're face-to-face.

Kate nods. "The whole way out here. I was watching every blade of grass, every tree we passed, every town we went through, every thought that jumped into my head, and wondering…"

"What life would be like if we'd gotten together back then?" he suggests, running his hands up and down her back.

Kate nods again, and then dips her head to accept the kiss he presses against her crown. She curls into his neck, clasping her hands low down behind his back, keeping his body pressed up against hers...like he was going anywhere.

"I guess we'll never know for sure," he whispers, fingers toying with her ponytail. "I don't know about you, but, I kind of like how things have turned out," he says, pressing his lips against the top of her head again, breathing in the smell of her cocoanut shampoo.

"Me too, I just…"

And she sounds so helplessly disappointed.

"I know," says Castle, quietly commiserating with her, holding her close, brushing his lips across her cheekbone until her eyes slip closed.

* * *

"I'll get the bags from the car," he whispers eventually, rousing her. "Why don't you go check out our bedroom? Top of the stairs, first left."

"Trying to get me into bed already, Mr. Castle?" Kate quips, failing to hold back a smile, and in that instant their moment of sadness is over, consigned to the past where it belongs.

Time to make some new memories.

"Hot tub first, Kate. Plenty of time for bed later," he shoots back at her, earning an approving lift of her eyebrows.

"Then go get the bags, Jarvis," smirks Kate, patting his chest and kissing his jaw before leaving his arms to go and explore.

Castle shakes his head in amazement.

"What did I do to end up with _the_ hottest girlfriend in the world; who looks as stunning as you do, kicks ass on a regular basis, _and_ references the Avengers?"

"Good Karma, I guess," jokes Kate. "Now, hurry up with that luggage, Castle, or I'll be forced to skinny dip in your hot tub," she says, turning her back on him with a sensational swing of her hips.

Their luggage stays in the car.

_A/N: Hope you enjoyed that for a kick-off. I decided to just take this one slow, since I'm still at the beach for a few more days, and all that sand makes for great Caskett inspiration. _

_One day to go before the torture that will be most of "Probable Cause". Gulp! Liv_


	2. Chapter 2 Privileges

_Disclaimer: I doubt Marlowe and co will ever give us this. Though I'd love to see it if they would._

_**Hamptons Heat**_

_**Chapter 2 - Privileges**_

_A/N: Warning - Rating change to M folks!_

The bedroom is so cool and shady after the stifling heat out on the back deck, sheltered as it is from the wind that whips along the beach today. Kate stretches out on the bed, arms above her head, her white kaftan drifting above mid-thigh towards what Castle has recently dubbed his_ 'little piece of heaven on earth'_.

Kate groans at her own sappy, sentimental thoughts, and throws an arm over her warm face in an attempt to push them out of her mind. He's turning her heart to mush, this boyfriend of hers.

"There you are," says the man in question, coming into the master bedroom with two chilled glasses of ice tea, his flop flops chanting quietly with every step.

"Hi. I was hot," says Kate, not moving from the spot where she's sprawled out on top of the bed.

"Yes, you _are_ hot," Castle tells her, as his eyes run up and down her body, and she cracks open one eyelid to stare at him.

He comes further into the room and continues feasting on the sight lying on his bed.

"I was worried for a second. Thought you might have run off with that obscenely rich old dude next door," he continues teasingly.

"Nah, I heard there's a Russian oligarch two houses over," Kate throws back at him, sitting up on the bed and crossing her legs. "Thought I'd hold out for an introduction. _Привет!_" she purrs.

Castle chuckles and sits down beside her, smoothing a cold, glass-dampened hand up her super-heated thigh once he hands over her drink.

Kate's breath catches in her throat at the sudden jolt of cold, but Castle stifles the protest she's about to make with a long, slow kiss, gently supporting her head with a hand behind her neck as he teases her lips apart.

When he pulls away, Kate's eyes are closed, the icy glass threatening to tip in her unsteady hand, the fingers of her other hand already threaded through his hair.

"You play dirty," she mutters, shaking her head and blushing, because this still feels so new sometimes, especially when they're in unfamiliar territory.

She takes a long sip of her drink to calm her heart rate down.

"Oh god, Castle, this is so good," she groans, diving in for another gulp.

"Good enough to make you forget the Russian dude?" Castle asks her, his fingers flirting with the side tie on her bikini bottoms.

"Maybe. But, I might need a little more persuasion," she says, smirking back at him. "How about you show me what you've got, Mr. Castle?"

"Mmm, an invitation from my favorite detective. I like," he grins wickedly.

* * *

When he tugs on the little stretchy tie, her bikini falls away on one side, exposing the pale, well-manicured area beneath and the soft sensitive skin at the crease of her thigh. Castle takes Kate's glass from her hand and places it on the nightstand.

"Why Mr. Castle, whatever are you doing?" squeaks Kate, her lip drawn between her teeth as he tips her over backwards onto the mattress, taking hold of both ankles to untangle her cross-legged position and spread her limbs out on the bed.

She gasps out a laugh, and her eyes slam shut when he slips his hand inside her bikini bottoms, two fingers immediately seeking out the warm, slick of arousal he knows is going to be waiting for him there. Because it's like this all the time now. They're reading each other's minds and bodies with so much more intensity than before they got together, and not once has he touched her and not found her ready for him, wanting. Even that thought makes him hard. Kate Beckett, so aroused by his presence, his touch, the sound of his voice…it just blows his mind.

"Castle," she croaks, her legs already writhing against the smooth, cool satin of the comforter, drawing him back to the cool, shady bedroom.

"Kate," he mirrors, reaching down over her to kiss her softly on the lips.

She arches up against his thigh when his tongue pushes into her mouth, a shuddering moan echoing through the quiet of the bedroom.

"Oh god. Too good. I need… Hmm, Rick?" she groans, swallowing thickly and fisting her hands in the back of his t-shirt to drag him down on top of her.

And shit, if this isn't doing it for him too. She's so goddam needy and desperate, this is going to be artless and over fast if they're not careful. But hell, who cares. They've got all week together to work on artful, award worthy love-making. It's not like they're making a sex tape or anything.

So Castle keeps up the teasing, rhythmic, stroking between her silky folds, as Kate writhes her hips against his fingers in a circular motion, her heels skidding against the satin sheet. He uses his free hand to pull his starfish-decorated swim shorts down over his hips, using his feet to kick them off completely onto the floor.

When he's finally naked on his lower half, he uses his fingers to make one last slow pass across Kate's swollen flesh, spreading her juice liberally, and then he slides into her without warning; hot and heavy and thick. Pulsing.

Kate's eyes fly open as he fills her up, and she grips his shoulders harder, curling her abdominals to draw him in as deep as she can.

Her bikini is still attached on one side, and her white kaftan has ridden up to expose her tan stomach, and the scene is just so wanton, and fuck, Castle's having trouble controlling himself already.

"Oh god, Castle," Kate warns him, with a needy whine to her voice. "You, inside me like this…hmm," she hums in warning.

She shakes her head and bites her lip, and he wants to know what she's not saying, make her use her words to tell him exactly what's on her mind right now.

"What, Kate? Tell me," he whispers, pushing her to open up like he's been doing since the night she arrived at his loft, soaking wet and begging for forgiveness. "Tell me what you feel," he says, his breath coasting over her collarbone, flirting with the soft skin below her ear.

"Feels so…ahhh," she shudders, as he draws out of her slowly and then slides all the way back in. "So…perfect. So…shit, you're too good at this, Castle," she laughs, startling herself and him both, as they start to shake with laughter.

"Get that in writing?" he pants, smirking with pride, continuing to show her just how good at this he really is, each long, slow stroke more devastating than the last.

"Why? You planning on doing something with that glowing review?" she jokes, knowing he's going nowhere if he knows what's good for him.

She watches him grin down at her, performing tricky little maneuvers with his hips all the while, working her up, taking her higher, using every little piece of knowledge he's been gathering about her body to undo her.

"Laminate it," he tells her, fingers toying with her nipple beneath the soft cotton of her kaftan until it forms a stiff, very obvious peak. "Hang it in my bedroom so I can point to it when you forget to come ho…"

* * *

The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them; this newly held hope that she'll enjoy his company so much while they're out here, that she'll get so used to sleeping next to him and waking up beside him in the morning, eating breakfast together and just hanging out that they'll finally make this a permanent thing; move the rest of her stuff into the loft when they get back.

But first he has to get her to agree to it. And this, just blurting it out, was not in his plan at all.

Kate is still working her hips up and under his, a lazy rhythm that points to having all the time in the world to enjoy this - just being here, the two of them, making love.

He looks at her face, searches her eyes for any hint of fright or even comprehension. But there's nothing obvious. Either that, or she's hiding it well.

"What were you saying?" she asks, ghosting her fingers over his lips, and he almost freezes, hips losing their rhythm so much so that it catches Kate's attention. "Are you okay?" she asks, stilling a little, sucking on his finger while he fights to keep control of himself.

"Peachy," he says, immediately frowning at his own stupid choice of words.

_Peachy_? _Fucking peachy_? He's in bed, nay, _inside_ Kate Beckett, and that's the best he can come up with?

Kate laughs at him, her brow furrowing, like she knows something is up, but she can't quite figure it out.

"You sure everything is…_peachy_?" she asks, teasing him as she gently toys with his earlobe.

"Uh, yeah. Couldn't be better. Now, I know this is usually your line," he says, determined to make her forget or unhear whatever she might have just heard, "but, stop talking, Kate," he whispers, grasping her hips with two large hands and pulling her down into him just as he arches his hips up and into her.

Playing dirty again.

She can't think, let alone utter another comprehensible word as he hits her sweet spot and stars start to spark behind her eyelids. When he performs the same maneuver again, his fingers pressing into her lower back, thumbs stroking the soft flesh by her waist, she chokes out a sob, and the buzzing, aching throb low down in her belly suddenly tightens to an excruciating level just before the sensation overwhelms her and she lets go, screaming.

* * *

"So, tonight?" he asks at little later, bringing her a glass of water, as she lies comatose on top of the bed. "It's our first night out here. You wanna dine in or out?"

Kate ponders the question for a moment, talking large gulps of water, suddenly incredibly thirsty.

"Let's go out to eat. We can always cook at home tomorrow. We haven't had much of a chance to go out back in the city. Anywhere you'd recommend?" she asks, rolling onto her side, and propping herself up on one elbow to watch him.

"For our first Hampton's date? Mmm?" he hums to himself, debating.

Castle is secretly thrilled that Kate wants to go out, since he's desperate to show her off around town to the longtime residents, the old-timers, and the wealthy out-of-towners who make up the bulk of the population in season. He thinks for a minute, and then, _yes!_

"Nick and Toni's. I'll call Tesla, see if she can get us in."

Kate leans back, checks the digital reading on Castle's overly elaborate, sunrise alarm clock.

"Isn't it a little late in the day to be securing a booking at what I'm presuming is the local '_in place'_?" asks Kate, making air quotes with her fingers.

"No such thing as too late," Castle informs her, leaning over to kiss her cheek before he bounces up off the bed to go find his cell phone.

* * *

Kate heads to the bathroom to take a shower, sets the water running as she sheds the rest of her clothes - the kaftan and bikini top that didn't quite make it off before – and she can hear him making playful, theatrical banter with the restaurant's hostess somewhere down the hall.

She shakes her head and smiles. What has she let herself in for with this man? A life of privilege and line jumping if he has his way, that's for sure. Still, the ivory-pale expanse of warm travertine tile in his en suite beckons to her as she watches the shower start to steam up. She can worry about status and line jumping later. Right now she'll happily take advantage of the massage jets and the under-floor heating. She'll be back hunting for clues in a cold, dirty, dark alleyway at 3am before she knows it. All things in moderation, she reasons, turning the water jets to high.

Castle strides in while she's rinsing shampoo and sand from her hair. She quickly had to learn that he has no boundaries when it comes to bathroom privacy; a state of affairs brought about by being the single parent to one small girl.

"We're in. Tesla said to swing by around eight-thirty and she'll find us a table. The gang's dying to meet you," he adds, earning a slightly alarmed, puzzled look from Kate, as she peers at him, squint-eyed, through a mess of white foam.

"The uh…the gang? Castle, what did you…?"

He's opening the glass door to the shower enclosure, cool air making the build-up of steam swirl ceilingwards and a rash of goose bumps retexture her skin.

"You're joining me?"

"We shouldn't waste water, Kate. Have you heard nothing about global warming?"

"Kyoto can wait a little longer. Castle. Who exactly is '_dying to meet me_?'" she asks, cupping his chin and turning his head so that he's looking straight at her.

"Just Tesla, Leo, and the guys, and there's usually a few of the locals propping up the bar. Why? Is that a problem?"

He reaches around her for the bottle of Origins Ginger body wash, pressing a kiss to her water-slick shoulder as he does so.

"Hey, you got some color this afternoon," he says, spinning her round, his large hands dwarfing her slender waist as he checks out the fresh tan lines the sun and her bikini have conspired to make on her skin.

She hasn't answered his question, is still mulling it over in her head. Is it okay, that she meets the locals, his long-term friendships made out here over years of summering and weekend breaks with Alexis, his ex-wife, and countless other women? Will she just be viewed as the latest model, a gold-digger in search of his fortune and a brush with his fame?

"Kate? What is it?" he asks, and she realizes that she's stopped moving, is just standing still under the shower spray like an idiot, with foam sliding down her shoulders – thinking.

"I…let's just get finished up," she says, patting his chest and pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth. "If you're going to show me off tonight I'll need time to fix my hair," she says generously, handing him the puff and body wash to scrub her back, as she fights the nervous flutter that has flared up in her stomach.

Because she can see how much this means to him, how excited he is at the prospect of having her meet some of his friends, and for once, she's not going to rob him of this small pleasure just because she feels insecure.

_A/N: This has been written for a while, but other stories kind of got in the way. Seems weird to be publishing summer stuff when it's so cold out. But maybe it'll make a nice counter-point to 'Santa Baby'. Liv_


End file.
